Dauntless
by Oceanbourne
Summary: "You're too young," he had said, but live steel wouldn't discriminate with age. There may be answers on the mountaintop, but there are also voices, and she doesn't want to hear anything they have to say.
1. Entropy

Its residents argued over which of its features was most striking, from the breathtaking waterfall behind the city hall to the jade and ivory cliffs sidling its beaches, but they could all agree on one thing: Xiuguan was _safe._

Not only did its geographical location atop one of the mountains of Navori, located in southern Ionia, prove advantageous so the moonlight could decorate its streets with its lustrous glow in the summer evenings, but its local patrol force was lauded as one of the region's top-notch organizations, a highly efficient team whose model of law enforcement structure was adopted by Caitlyn Marshall, who some may know as the up-and-coming new sheriff of the City of Progress. The sheriff's admiration of the Ionian justice programs was a little-known tidbit about her, formed during one of her visits to the island nation as a young adolescent when her father had taken her for a short vacation during a short diplomatic meeting between the elder Marshall and a few Ionian statesmen.

Yet for all the lauds and praises people had given Xiuguan and its supposedly secure environment, a teenage girl still found herself running as fast she could, willing her legs not to slow down as she continued her frantic run, not daring to slow down lest her pursuers gain another inch of ground on her.

The clouds denied any lighting the moon could have given her on that night, the engulfing darkness the only thing the path in front of her could offer along with the uncertainty of solid ground which could easily pass away with every step she took. And the threat of losing her footing and slipping onto the rocky earth drummed itself into her mind as quickly as the beat of her heart throbbed alongside the adrenaline which continued to flow through her veins and urge her onwards, always running, never slowing down.

She could barely trace the outline of geographical features in front of her, and only at a certain distance in front of her. Abruptly switching course to her right in order to avoid the trunk of a fallen tree, she nimbly vaulted over a fallen log and strafed back to her left to bypass a low-hanging branch as she continued her escapade deeper into the forest, where the sounds of wild animals performing their cacophony of the night masked the sound of her pursuers hot on her trail.

With her lack of information, she had decided to turn a corner and catch her breath behind the trunk of a large oak, resting her back against the bark and slowly sinking down between two thick roots as her chest rose and fell as her breathing began to slow down to its regular pace. She closed her eyes, raising a hand to wipe the sweat off her brow and opened her senses to listen closely to her surroundings, wondering if she had finally outrun the brigands tailing her.

Nothing but the occasional hoot of an owl amidst the ubiquitous chirping of the crickets. Perhaps they had finally given -

"Gotcha, girlie!"

A firm hand grasped her wrist, pinning it to the tree's root, as another clamped over her mouth tightly to prohibit her from crying out or making any noticeable noise. She tried to use her feet to possibly trip the attackers, but the painful blunt force of a steel-tipped boot locked her legs in place. When she felt the cold steel of a knife pressed to her throat, she realized that both of the men had caught up to her, which had resulted in her worst-cases scenario: if it had come down to it, she might have been able to overpower one of them with the martial arts training her father had drilled into her, but the strength and numbers advantage of two men, especially if they were armed, proved too much for her to overcome.

"You gave us quite a bit of trouble, you know?" another voice, a little higher pitched than the first one, said. The knife had moved away from its precipitous location next to her throat, but had only lowered itself slightly to cut the chain of her necklace as the piece of jewelry fell into the free hand of her captor, who quickly snapped it up and brought it to his eyes, squinting at it with some difficulty in the absence of any clear light.

"Give me some light, will you?" he asked of his companion, who moved a hand away from her to fish into his pocket for a lighter, handing it over to the other man in exchange for the knife which was once again pressed to her throat while the latter held the necklace in one hand to the light of the fire produced by the lighter in the other.

"Real Placidium gold, huh?" the man with the lighter declared, cackling to himself as he stowed away the necklace in one of its coat pockets. "We got ourselves the daughter of a swordsman, it looks like. Ain't no one else besides the blade masters of the Placidium and their families who get to walk around and flaunt valuable jewels like those."

"Heh, I wonder what'll be worth more," his companion agreed, laughing boisterously, "the girl or the goods."

"Speaking of goods," the first man spoke up, his voice taking on a much more sinister tone, "I bet we can have some fun with her before we give her over to the market." He bent down, bringing the lighter dangerously close to her face as his facial features came into view on the other side of the flame: a rugged, barbaric face weathered by the dirt and grime characteristic of the life of a vagabond wandering the vast forests between each city in Ionia. The eyes had had the color drained out of them a long time ago, it seemed, yet the satisfaction hidden in that devilish smile contained all the pent-up frustration which had accumulated for years in his body, just waiting to unleash all of it out on her.

"Who knew we'd end up with such a pretty face?" he mocked, grazing over her cheek with two patronizing fingers. She twitched at the contact, the corner of her mouth writhing out of disgust which caused him to lean back and bark out a hearty laugh.

"Haven't been touched by a man like that, have you? You needn't worry. I'll be sure your first time isn't lacking in anything," he promised ominously as the gluttonous hands of a sinner worked their malicious ways all over her body, pulling at her collar, completely bypassing the buttons and furiously breaking open her blouse, hungrily tugging at the hems of her skirt…

 _They're just going to take everything from me? My belongings, my clothes, my maidenhood, my honor…_

"Make sure you save some for me, boss," the other man demanded as his ravenous eyes glanced over every inch of her skin revealed to his perverted mind.

An unceremonious _thwack_ ended the brigand's defamation as he crumpled to the ground halfway through the process of forcing her legs open while his partner tore away his hand from her mouth as he looked at his unconscious body in confusion.

"What the - "

A second strike, a crushing blow to the back of the head, felled the second man as he lay in a crumpled heap alongside the first bandit. Back in control of her limbs and mouth, she glanced upwards to her saviour, a man draped in a dark purple cloak who looked like he was brandishing an Ionian greatsword. His hood was lowered, although she couldn't make out anything significant in his facial features apart from a pair of haunting blue eyes.

Realizing her indecency, she turned away from him, one hand covering her half-exposed chest while another furiously pushed down her skirt as she tried not to show any more of her in her vulnerable state. The swordsman ignored her frantic movements of concealment and reached down into the pocket of the first man, turning him over with some effort before his hand came out with the object he was looking for.

"This belong to you?" he asked, the broken golden necklace in hand.

Her eyes gleamed with recognition as she timidly held out a hand to receive it. "Y-yes. I… can't thank you enough for saving me, sir."

He dismissed her gratitude with a shrug of the shoulder. "I thought this was Xiuguan, was it not?"

She was confused at his question. "The town a quarter mile away from here is."

"Then what is the alleged crime-less village doing, letting a girl get robbed during the autumn festival?"

She looked away, unable to give an adequate response. "It's not exactly completely devoid of thieves and robbers… So long as there is imbalance in the world, there will always be the wicked who seek to abuse the tipped scales."

He gave her answer some thought before putting forth another question. "And you Ionians are looking to end that?"

She nodded. "We seek to purify the imperfections we find in the world, first within ourselves, and then within others. I… I don't know much about achieving perfect harmony, as that is a discipline more left to the monks than someone like me, but I believe that each person can work to improve humanity's path towards equilibrium, even if it is a little bit at a time."

A brief silence. "I hate to break it to you, but you won't be going anywhere with that silly fairytale notion of yours. The Noxians have it right, even if the way they go about their ideology is a bit off. Strength is what dictates this world. You were just fortunate that I chose to use mine to compensate for your lack of it." With a jab of his own, he was about to leave her with the wounds still fresh, but if he wanted to impart upon her some self-serving philosophical dogma nonsense, she would make sure she got another piece of information that she wanted as well.

"Wait," she called. "I have to at least know the name of my savior."

He turned back sideways, revealing the slightest hint of his facial features.

"Jax."

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm getting all these weird short little ideas lately. This literally came to me as I was walking back to my apartment late last night and after reading a couple of some more serious fics I decided to try my hand at some more mature fanfiction starring none other than my two favorite League characters.

I'm working on Trinity's next chapter, I swear, it's just tiresome to write a huge plot. It seems that putting in a lot of detail onto a small fixed event in time is much easier to work with, but has less fleshing out in a linear time frame, so any updates to this would be set in different snapshots in time.

You could think of this as a prequel of sorts to Trinity? Or rather, an alternate timeline since I didn't have this previous interaction set up between Jax and Irelia when Trinity first started. Either way, it's some expanded history between them, and this chapter is set a few years before the Noxian invasion of Ionia so they're a bit younger than they are now, with Jax a few years older.

on another note FINALLY HIT GOLD and quite fittingly it was on an Irelia game where i had to singlehandedly carry my team from being behind like 6k gold at the 20 min mark or so, but now I don't have to play ranked that much and can work on projects like this :

please leave reviews, this is a work I'd particularly like feedback on.


	2. Emancipate

Commander Wargyen was a newcomer to any sort of authority position, but it didn't mean he was clueless. When he assumed control of the band of sellswords, the first official action he decided to authorize was the creation of a weekly tournament, where any man in the company wishing to volunteer could join to make up a single-elimination bracket, with valuable prizes in store for the winner. The rules were simple: force your opponent to yield before they did the same to you. With the mercurial nature of mercenaries who might change sides at the drop of a coin, it might have been a dangerous proposition for a large group of men to go at each other mercilessly, even with only training swords, but the commander's stern presence during every bout ensured that no extra blood was spilled.

His primary reason for the creation of such tournaments, and the one he offered as an explanation to some of the more curious mercenaries, was simply for his own entertainment, to watch the men display various feats of strength and agility in a tempered environment where no one had to worry about their lives being in jeopardy.

The second reason was to sort out the quality stock from the expendable stock.

Commander Wargyen was not clueless. Manpower was a limited resource, not something you could go out and replenish easily like water or gunpowder. Taking on a job didn't mean simply putting a certain amount of hours laboring over it to complete the task, as if it were some menial favor. Someone would inevitably die in the process, and he wasn't about to let his best warriors catch the short end of the straw. The usual persona anyone with a military background took on was an objective, non-biased observer, but Wargyen knew it was just a facade underneath, that through casual observance commanders would naturally find themselves drawn to specific units that showed promise beyond the rest. He would make sure those who began ahead stayed ahead - and as for those whose skills still held much to be desired, they had a choice of either languishing in mediocrity or picking up the pace in order to not fall behind.

Jax never partook in the tournaments, although not due to a lack of ability. He made it a point to observe every round that he could and quickly discovered the flaws within each man's form, vital mistakes which could cost them their life in a skirmish to an observant opponent. The Freljordian always stepped forward with his right foot before he lunged; the man with a cut which had just grazed over his eye, affectionately dubbed "Scar-Eye" by the rest of the company, blocked attacks with stiff knees; a third man, who claimed to be a deserter from the Demacian royal army, gripped his sword like a lance, with the hands much too far apart. That was how Jax knew the man was a fraud, as any soldier who had undergone Demacian military experience was at least trained to wield a sword properly.

He would remain silent on the matter, despite the numerous attempts from the men to coax some reasoning from him, especially from one of his closer friends, a dark-skinned man from south of the Great Barrier named Karzak. From him Jax had learned of some of the special treatment the commander had given some of the more meritorious fighters, apart from the standard amounts of gold or jewels given to tournament winners which paled in comparison to the real bonuses standout fighters received. The southerner had received a shashka saber from Wargyen, a rare sword in its own right, but upon further examination, Jax had found a set of ancient runes inscribed into its hilt. Allegedly dating back to the time of the Rune Wars, Karzak informed him that they granted him strength and fortitude during fights, as well as a special, unique advantage.

It was powerful information, and a dangerous thing to confide in someone knowing you possessed a valuable weapon leaps and bounds beyond the traditional scimitars and cutlasses the average mountain raider lackey possessed, or even the standard Ionian greatswords most of the company wielded. It was the reason that Wargyen had decreed that all his men keep their swords sheathed when they were among each other in times of peace, only permitting them to draw them out when it became time to fight. Even though most of the men had forged friendships between each other, a byproduct of both the resignation of knowing that they would likely spend an extended amount of time together and the subtle conditioning the commander had instilled in them to force socialization within their numbers, there was always the possibility of betrayal on the horizon. When their common goal was self-advancement and preservation, friends could turn to backstabbing enemies in a heartbeat.

"Some elemental magic technique?' Jax had guessed, knowing that elite warriors within the Noxian military received similar gifts of the sort, runic swords which allowed them to wield the power of earth, wind, and fire at times.

Karzak shook his head. "The commander is a careful man, and it is not a tangible advantage you can see on the battlefield. To tell the truth, it seems silly to talk about it. I feel like the sword is some kind of trinket my mother would give me as a child and tell me it would give me good luck, but when wielding it I swore I could tell what my enemy on the battlefield would do before they did it."

"Predictive event runes?" Jax ventured, very skeptical of the idea. "Sounds like a placebo effect to me more than anything."

"It may very well be," the dark-skinned man said thoughtfully. "But for a placebo to work, you need the idea in your head beforehand. This sword paints me vivid pictures, ones that come alive a second later and allow me to respond with my own work. I know exactly how they will try to block, or dodge, or run away."

Jax knew his friend was skilled and relied quite heavily on his instinct in battle to guide his blade, but the way he was speaking made him believe Karzak was speaking of thoughts on an entirely different plane. If that were true, then there was definitely some mystical power Wargyen had access to, and it was both formidable and dangerous. Still, he chose not to divulge such an opinion to him, instead pretending to keep his skepticism around the sword.

"I know you are a questioning soul, friend, so I will not bother you with the ravings of a crazy man," Karzak joked, and that was the end of that discussion.

Their mission today brought them closer to the heart of Ionia than Jax would have ever believed they would end up. Karzak stood beside him, the taller southerner following Jax's gaze over the grey cliffs upon which they stood, looking over a breathtaking landscape of waterfalls and trees on the other side of the wide chasm which separated them from the Placidium, the largest city of the island nation. Jax remained in his vigil of nature, awaiting the signal from the rest of the scouting group before they could move on. The objective was to seize control of the mountain pass, the shortest route from the Placidium to Navori in the south and a dangerous road where travelers were very prone to becoming waylaid by the mountain bandits who had seized control of the area recently. Wargyen had been charged to exterminating the trespassers, a feat he believed he could accomplish with a mere eight men.

The faint hoot of an owl, not uncommon to hear even in the early morning hours, signified that the clearing ahead had been swept of any potential threats, so Jax nodded to Karzak and headed for the intended rendezvous point. From there, they would quietly advance to a nearby bluff, where they knew in advance that a guard for the mountain bandits would periodically walk by on patrol, and rush him with the utmost speed before he could cry out or alert his brethren that there were intruders. Next they would methodically storm the fortress and take the unsuspecting bandits by surprise, resulting in a swift flushing out of the miscreants from the area.

It was a typical plan of Wargyen, designed to limit the amount of casualties for each side, moreso for the sake of his own men than the bandits, for he dearly cherished the lives of his men, if only for the future worth their skills with a sword could give him rather than the value of their souls themselves. Jax dismissed the thought from his mind as he moved into position. He wasn't here to argue the morality of the commander's decision, to debate right and wrong. He came only for the paycheck, and in the end, money was able to sway people's minds more effectively than righteousness.

Something was amiss, however. The rest of the squadron was supposed to be standing behind the fir tree on the opposite side of the clearing, but none of them had shown themselves to Jax and Karzak yet to ensure that the coast was clear. Perhaps they hadn't anticipated their arrival yet? Jax was about to walk into the middle of the open space to check for himself, but a restricting gesture from Karzak, followed by a wordless command to listen, made him halt and open his ears.

The faint sounds of battle, the clash of steel and the savage shouting of men out for blood. Karzak took up his weapon and moved around the clearing in a roundabout way, yet still intending to reach the other side of the fir eventually. Jax followed behind him. It seemed like the bandits were prepared for their little ambush, and the group had encountered more resistance than originally expected.

What greeted them when they finally joined the battle was a horrifying sight. Jax's attention was drawn to a certain bandit in the middle of the fight, a gigantic brute head and shoulders taller than both his fellow bandits and the swordsmen of the company, his exposed chest stained with blood as he took on two of the mercenaries at once bare-handed. Each of the remaining men had their hands full themselves as the bandits had outnumbered the company two to one on every angle, and they were doing all they could to not be immediately overwhelmed.

Rushing to the aid of the closest mercenary, Karzak entered the fray with a ferocious bellow, drawing his shashka and nearly catching a bandit off guard as the blade nearly missed his target's neck. Jax made not a sound as he made his own entrance into the fight, swiping at a bandit of his own. His sword was easily parried, of course, but the intent of his strike was to study, not to immediately kill.

The bandit seemed to enjoy blocking his swings laterally, a habit Jax was looking to abuse when his opening came, but more pressing matters had captured his attention when the bare-chested giant in the middle began turning on him, having already dispatched of his previous two enemies. Jax was forced to retreat, their numbers quickly dwindling as he hurriedly backpedalled towards the clearing while the bandits, encouraged by their champion's dominance, savagely ran towards the remainder of the mercenaries. He knew there was no chance for them to simply overpower: they would have to approach the fight from a different angle, even using dirty tactics if they were going to make it out of the fray alive. His eye caught Karzak in the mayhem, furiously signalling his comrade to retreat as the rest of the mercenaries had continued to fight in vain.

What are they doing? Can't they see there's no point in turning and fighting?

Jax believed them to be smart enough to realize their disadvantage in this scenario and tactically retreat, but he had just now realized the commander's choice in men was woefully inadequate if they were forced to adapt to a difficult situation. Out of the eight mercenaries on duty for the assignment, only Karzak and himself were capable of understanding what was the best course of action in a fight, and the commander was only aware of Karzak's ability due to his prowess in their weekly tournaments.

Wargyen had gone into planning the mission with the mindset that Karzak's skill alone would allow him to carry the rest of the men to a swift victory. He had never accounted for the possibility of his plan going wrong, or if he did, he had made sure the majority of the squad was simply part of the "expendable stock."

He had no time to see if any of the others made it out alive, for he and Karzak were already far from the fight, a good five of the bandits still on their tail as their surroundings transformed while they ran, the foliage of the forest disappearing into the rocky environment of the mountain. While it was a more open setting, it did leave less opportunities to hide and made it impossible for them to lose their pursuers.

Karzak pointed towards a small ledge, turning direction and wasting no time in scaling up the face of the cliff. It was about twenty-five feet high, but the two of them were able to climb up it relatively easy due to the ample amounts of handholds provided by the natural contour of the cliff. Not even bothering to check if their pursuers had continued the chase, the pair bounded down the length of the ledge, hoping for a way out in the labyrinth of the mountain pass. Jax's heart sank when the path led to a dead end - there was no way to continue as the only thing that greeted them at the edge of the cliff was empty space, the waterfalls pouring into a lake perhaps a hundred feet down, and the mountain next to them much too steep to continue climbing. They heard the sound of the bandits closing in on them, making it apparent that there was no more running for them.

"Well, it looks like our options are sorely limited, my friend," Karzak said sadly as he brought out his shaska. "Will you fight, or will you jump?"

Jax looked over the cliff once more. The staggering amount of foam coming from the rapids made it impossible to tell how deep the water was at the bottom, and there was another fatal factor making jumping an unpleasant possibility: the sharp rocks which awaited them if they didn't jump far enough. Jax was quite confident that he could clear all the ones he could see, but if any lay in the white foam which obscured his vision, his fate was sealed. Still, it was a more attractive solution than taking his chances with that psychotic giant which was on the side of the bandits.

"We're better off jumping," he suggested. "We'll probably need a running start to make sure we clear the rocks, and maybe taking off some of this armor would help…" Jax began undoing his tunic, but stopped when he saw Karzak refusing to move, only responding with a sad smile.

"I cannot do it," he confessed. "You know my origins, how I was born in the desert, where the largest liquid I had seen was the quicksand that nearly killed me. Only death awaits me down there, friend. I would drown."

Jax refused to let Karzak's fear of the water overcome the much more tangible threat of the bandits who were already beginning to close in on their location. "You can't say that! Just take my hand and hold on to me when we jump! I won't let you go!"

Karzak turned to face the bandits, the giant leading their march, taking his time and whetting his lips. To him, they were nothing more than his next meal, Jax mused. "I can fight them and let you escape," Karzak turned to say to him. "If you wish to jump, you should do so now."

Jax remembered the power of the runes embedded within Karzak's sashka, how he had apparently seen future events when he wielded the sword. If his claim was really true, and he knew the outcome of their dilemma, he wouldn't have objected to the jump if it would actually save them. That left only a couple of possibilities. They would either be able to win this fight, or...

"That's madness!" Jax protested. "We go down together, whether it be up here with them or down in the river below!" He drew his greatsword, ready to back Karzak up, but the giant had already closed the distance between them, knocking the southerner's sword out of his hands, the blade falling off the side of the cliff down the mountain with a resounding klang.

Karzak had already recreated the space between himself and the giant, backing away until he was only a couple of feet from the cliff's edge. Jax knew they probably couldn't have even handled the giant with both their swords, let alone his own, and he understood what Karzak probably saw in his sword's vision. They were doomed to die at the giant's hand if they lingered any longer. At least that made his choice a lot easier.

"Jump!" he ordered a shaken Karzak as he pulled his friend's wrist with him as Jax leapt off the precipice with all the strength he could muster. A moment of weightlessness registered with him, and for a second he felt detached from the world, face-to-face with the horizon at the end of the picturesque panorama surrounding him. The next moment was filled with horror, the sensation of falling into the unknown as his heart leapt into his mouth and he choked back a scream as they plunged into the stormy waters below.

* * *

The first thing he felt was that his left hand held nothing in its grasp. Impulsively squeezing and finding nothing, Jax tried to sit up at once and immediately regretted doing so. An immensely painful feeling radiated from his chest, and he couldn't help letting loose an anguished yell as he laid back down, cringing from the extreme pain and closing his eyes as he waited for it to recede.

His outburst drew forth footsteps coming from the outside of the room which he realized he was laying in, and Jax reasoned that he was in some kind of building. "You're awake," a young female voice greeted him.

He opened his eyes to see a pair of light brown eyes regarding him curiously, their owner a dark-haired female perhaps in her teenage years. Jax couldn't think much of anything besides the searing pain, so the only response he could give was some strained panting and a sharp intake of breath as he desperately tried to keep himself controlled. It wouldn't do to continue panicking like he was earlier, else the pain would have gotten worse.

After what felt like an eternity, Jax felt relaxed - as relaxed as he could have given his condition - and the girl decided it was time for her to finally explain things. "If you're okay now, I guess I can fill you in. I didn't want to tell you earlier, because I was afraid you'd end up like him if I did, but… your friend is dead."

 _Karzak…_ Jax thought. _What…?_ The memories came back to him now. The feel of dropping twenty feet underwater and desperately trying to pull his own weight and the weight of his friend back up to the surface, while keeping both of them afloat as he searched for a way to bring them both ashore. Some incredible burst of energy must have been used to actually accomplish that, as Jax couldn't remember anything past the water threatening to pull him over time and time again and his mind telling him over and over again not to let go of Karzak.

Somehow he held back crying out again. The despair was almost too much to take, but Jax needed to know the whole deal.

"You jumped off the waterfall, didn't you? You're lucky you've only got a few broken ribs, but the other guy… he wasn't breathing when we found you on the shoreline."

 _I should have known_ , Jax thought bitterly. _If a man can't swim, why should he be expected to know how to dive properly? His death is on my hands._

He tried looking at the girl again, and now that his memories were working properly, he felt the face looked familiar. "You… I've seen you before."

She was surprised. "You have? But… from where?"

The experience was too striking for him to forget. "A little patch of forest outside a town called Xiuguan."

She looked dumbly at him for a second before her face lit up with recognition. "What? Then you are…"

"Yeah, I'm Jax," he said. "Forgive my manners from last time, I left without learning your name."

Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't hold back her smile, and Jax thought it endearing. _I've gone truly mad now, haven't I._

"My name is Irelia."

* * *

 **A/N:** ugh why did this end up so long, I wanted it to be about the same length as the first chapter but the rising action leading up to the jump took much longer than expected so this is now twice as long. Oh well, the more the merrier, right?

Yeah this is really dark and I want to keep the mood like this as best I can. It feels much more compact as well when you're not writing about a million characters, although having a bunch of personalities in a chapter does make it fun to write dialogue.

Deep character relations coming up next (maybe)!


	3. Elucidate

"We can't keep him here much longer.."

Her brother spoke the words with a kind yet firm tone, and Irelia knew he was trying to remain as pleasant as possible. The playful tinge in his voice was still there, but it had begun to slowly hollow out ever since their father's death. Since that day, Zelos never looked the same, as complete as he used to in the innocence of their childhood, a fact which pained her every time she set eyes on him.

"Why shouldn't we? Something serious had to have happened to him if he was forced to jump off the side of a waterfall," she protested.

"You can't speak of a man like some kind of dog you want to adopt," Zelos sighed as he leaned back against his bedframe. They had gone into his bedroom to discuss the matter privately - what was this mysterious man doing on the lake shore, what business did he have at the top of the mountain, and most pressing, what would they do about the body of his unfortunate comrade who didn't survive the transit? "Look at the weapons they had on them," her brother continued. "You don't see the average person walking around wielding a greatsword. It's likely he's some kind of drifter or mercenary, neither of which we want to be in the company of."

"He has several broken ribs, Zelos," Irelia persisted, reminding him of the injuries she had witnessed the man struggle with when he first awoke. "Neither of us can adequately treat his wounds, so you would either have to fetch a healer or let him stay with us for a few days so he can recover on his own. And you know the attitude of the elders towards the sellswords that roam the countryside. They'd refuse him, saying that men who decide to make a living by the sword without taking a sacred oath to preserve their honor have no place in Ionia. Even though he is a sword for hire, in his condition he wouldn't be threatening us, especially not you."

After their father's mysterious passing, the art of Master Lito's fabled Hiten style had naturally passed down to the elder of his two children, Zelos, who was a distinguished swordsman in his own right. Their father had not neglected to impart some of his teachings to his daughter as well, but it was specifically Zelos who had been groomed for the particular duty of continuing the tradition of their swordplay. Irelia gave a passing glance to the massive blade, once proudly wielded by their father, which now hung on the wall above Zelos' bed. The Sword That Takes Breath, it had been reverently named, both referencing the immaculate flow of Master Lito's technique which made the sword look like a living, breathing entity, and the deadliness of his stroke as it only took one well-timed blow for the blademaster to slice through an enemy and steal their breath away.

She could sense Zelos start to relent at her reasoning, although his stubborn streak prevented him from giving up his position so easily. "It's just not right, Irie, to provide all this service for an unknown mercenary who literally washed up on our doorstep. Not to mention the body of the man he brought along with him. We're going to have to bury that, you know?"

Irelia nodded. The crushing impact of cold death upon the lifeless man's face provided an indelible image in her mind, one she was more than ready to cover up and move along from. It wasn't that she was irreverent to the deceased, but on the contrary, she had always disliked the Ionian funeral tradition of dressing the dead into formal attire and performing a candlelight vigil around its coffin before lowering it into the ground. The sight of the cadaver, slowly decaying despite the mortician's best efforts to preserve the deceased's dignity, was something Irelia could never stand. It had taken all her willpower to keep her eyes fixated on her father's body when the time had come for his own funeral procession. She much preferred to memorialize her father's legacy through the past recollections of the time he had spent with her and Zelos, as well as the teachings he had handed down to them over the years.

Rising from her seat, Irelia made her way to the door. "Hey, what are you doing?" a surprised Zelos called out to her.

"I'm getting answers."

She had already gotten a name from him the first time they had crossed paths. The second time, she had discovered his profession. For her next audience with him, she was going to find out his purpose.

Irelia entered the spare bedroom to find Jax in the same position she had previously left him in, lying prone with a constant gaze staring at the ceiling. Her discussion with Zelos had run longer than she had anticipated - Irelia silently apologized for the inconvenience.

"Jax, correct?"

The mercenary didn't move, but Irelia attributed it to a desire to remain as still as possible, considering the nature of his injuries. She took his silence as a sign to continue.

"I was wondering about a few things," she started to address him, eliciting a slight turn of the head and the focus of his watchful eyes on her. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her, forcing her to drop eye contact as she couldn't get herself to look at him, finding a distraction by adjusting the window sills to block a little light from entering the room.

"If you're going to ask me questions and expect answers, the least you can do for me is look me in the eye when you do so," came the trade. Not only had he noticed her slight bashfulness, but he was straight up calling her out on it. It was amazing how he, in his state of weakness, was making her feel like the vulnerable one.

Irelia slowly brought herself to look at his face again. He seemed to look around Zelos' age, with the veteran scars of a few battles indicating that he had weathered the scenes of death on the battlefield before and wouldn't be impressed by anything less than completely purposeful interrogation from her. She decided to get straight to the point.

"What brought you to such a desperate measure? You risked both of your lives with that jump, and you can tell how severe the consequences were," was her first dart.

"We were trapped into a corner," he explained calmly. "It was either fight the bandits which outnumbered us or take our chances with Mother Nature. Seems like she wasn't going to let me go without paying a hefty price."

"So you two were mercenaries," Irelia said straightforwardly what she could have easily guessed, but she wanted some background to it.

"He was a mercenary," Jax replied. "I still am. Once I'm able to move again I'll have to rejoin the company. They'll have pegged me for dead and probably moved on from this failed mission, but I'll be sure to return."

She knew how whimsical the wandering life could be, but she didn't expect it to go to the extent that Jax had related. "How could people be so heartless to their own brethren?" she wondered, thinking out loud more than actually asking a question.

"Our little band of brothers," Jax said with a mocking undertone that was not lost on Irelia, "is managed by a smart man. Very pragmatic, very ruthless, but if I were in his shoes I'd follow his example in a heartbeat. A common mercenary like me is just stock that he's gambling on putting an investment into. And since we've all got terrible odds to survive, you can guess how much our commander could care about men who don't come back to him within a day."

The bitterness in his voice was seeping into her skin, and Irelia didn't want any more of the malice entering their conversation. "Stop talking about yourself like you're just some object to be sold on the market," she pleaded. "You're in Ionia. The people of this land respect the individual potential which lives in each and every one of us. You were fortunate enough to survive that encounter; surely that has to mean something?"

"It's just how the cards fell," Jax shrugged dismissively. "But I would've gladly swapped places with Karzak in a heartbeat. He was a courageous man, and a good friend. If anybody in our company could've embodied strength, it was him. If anyone deserved to get out of that mess alive, it was him. Great, we're in Ionia, land of harmony and balance, right? Was there anything that was possibly fair about his death?"

Irelia couldn't answer for a second, shocked by his outburst. Once she had re-gathered her courage, she timidly tried to give a typical Ionian explanation for his misfortune. "We can't know why or how things go they way they do. Suffering is inevitable in any person's life, but the monks teach us that the ability to let go of it and not allow it to cloud our minds will set us along the righteous path."

That was the correct answer to give, the mantra she had been taught by the Hirana monks in the northeast, known for their strained discipline and tremendous self-control. In her heart, however, she wanted to agree with him, to protest that it wasn't fair and to lament the fact that they couldn't bring back the dead. Her father had suffered the same fate, contracting a mysterious illness in the middle of the night without any forewarning. He had enjoyed excellent health for his entire life, but once he had developed that cough, he had just gradually grown weaker and weaker until one day he simply passed away. There was no compensation for that, but Irelia was just a young girl at the time, and the elders had given her the only recourse they believed was acceptable.

Jax could see past the regurgitated schoolhouse teachings she forced herself to deliver him. "You can't believe that, can you? Sure, I can't do anything to bring Karzak back from the dead, but you can't just tell me to let go of this incident and try to move on. I have to do something about his death, else all his effort, all his hard work, will have just scattered to the wind and dissipated in vain."

"You can't even sit up from the bed, though," Irelia pointed out. "You'll have to at least stay a few days with us so you can fully recover before you do anything rash. My brother and I can easily provide for you, so that shouldn't be an issue."

Zelos hadn't exactly given his full consent to acting as Jax's temporary caretaker, but Irelia knew her brother would relent to her if she insisted. She just had to convince herself she was making the correct choice.

"Nothing rash, huh? You're a very trusting type, taking some random mercenary into your home and allowing me time to recover. What's to stop me from turning on your eventually and killing you and your brother?"

His threatening hypothetical scenario didn't frighten her in the slightest. "If you really wanted to do that, you wouldn't have been the type of person to save me from those bandits in Xiuguan."

Her answer had silenced him for a moment. "If they had been allowed to carry out what they were planning to do… the fact that I had idly passed by would have been unforgivable."

"For someone who laughs at our teachings, you're concerned about your own conscience?"

Jax exhaled deeply, and Irelia knew he was trying to hold back. "Just because I'm a mercenary doesn't mean I have I don't have my own set of ideals. I still have my aspirations, my beliefs, my future to look towards."

Irelia frowned, realizing the incongruence between the occupation this man chose and the words coming out of his mouth. "And you think this lifestyle can help you fulfill that?"

"No." It was the first time during that conversation he had broken eye contact with her.

That brought her to her final question. "So what do you want now?"

She could tell he had given the matter quite a bit of thought, as he uttered his answer clearly and without any hesitation. It was a fairly predictable response, the kind of thing which a man driven to despair would seek out.

"Vengeance."

* * *

 **A/N:** I did say there'd be character building and I went deep, man. Pretty much nothing but dialogue and I placed the story in a direction where I could take it many different ways. You could make a great story out of Jax's wanderings around Valoran and how his history of fighting eventually led him to the Institute of War, but that would be a tale for another time. The tricky part here is getting both him and Irelia involved, so there'll probably be a time skip even though these last two chapters were directly linear.


	4. Evanescent

All it took was for his eyes to shut a moment too long and he had missed the opportunity to properly say goodbye to his fallen friend. They had already dug a modest grave for him, he learned from Irelia's brother a short while after he had awoken from falling asleep of exhaustion. Although he understood the necessity of giving the body a quick burial before its decay brought a stench into the house, Jax forever regretted the fact that he could not look upon the face of Karzak one last time. He supposed it was time to move onto his next ideal to pursue.

Vengeance.

Jax had given the matter a long time while he had lain there. When he had finally reached a satisfactory answer, he was originally appalled by his vindictiveness. Coming to the mercenary company, Jax realized how difficult the lifestyle would be, how if you couldn't come to terms with your own mortality, you wouldn't last more than a couple of days on the job. So he had slowly distanced his mind away from forming permanent relationships with the men with whom he worked alongside, knowing full well that each day he spent with them could be their last, or his last. Once he had gathered enough money from the meager payroll the commander had promised him, even it took decades, he would eventually be able to leave the cutthroat life and finally live in peace. Every morning when Jax woke up, he would tell himself that.

When he met Karzak, however, his perspective of the typical mercenary changed. The southerner was quite different than the rest of the sellswords, slow to anger, with a tendency to bear goodwill towards people no matter their character or background. No one dared to give him trouble either, with his natural strength being able to back up his mannerisms if anyone would call him out for being soft. Karzak had proven himself a trustworthy confidant for Jax, even going so far as to reveal to him his secret runic sword, knowing full well that the consequences of a potential betrayal could cost him his life.

The fact that Karzak had fallen to the cruel hand of fate rather than a poor decision of his own doing only angered Jax even further, even though the analytical half of his mind told him he couldn't pin it on the bandits specifically for taking his friend's life. Their natural course of action would be to rise to the defense of their territory, and even though in Jax's eyes the bandits were an objective evil that had to be exterminated from the area, he understood that they wouldn't have done anything else. It was yet another difference between him and the typical mercenary: he would be able to show empathy for the human beings he was assigned to kill. It was not at all a boon for Jax, as it only made dealing the killing blow to them all the more difficult.

Since the bandits didn't make up the entirety of the focus of Jax's anger, he needed to look elsewhere to sate his desire for retribution. The only open avenue left, therefore, was his own origins, the mercenary company itself. He had never been a huge fan of Commander Wargyen's entire character, from the excessively lavish clothing he wore to the exhibtionist attitude he took on when dealing with his men. He could stand being used as a pawn, a mere tool designed to fight and eliminate the threats of his superiors, but Jax absolutely despised the commander for the way he simply let the variations in skill between the company ultimately decide their fates without even lifting a finger to alter the course of destiny.

"The food is ready," came the gentle voice bringing his thoughts back down to earth.

Disoriented from being deep in thought for quite some time, Jax realized he must have had a peculiar expression on his face judging by Irelia's giggling. The girl had walked into the room with a large metal pot, steam flowing out of the small holes in its lid. Judging by the pleasing aroma and the type of the container, Jax guessed it was some sort of broth. She then exited the room, shortly returning with two ceramic bowls in hand and three wooden spoons, one larger than the other two to facilitate transferring the soup from the pot to the smaller bowls. Upon opening the pot the entirety of the steam burst out, most of it disappearing through the open window, and Jax was able to breathe in the delightful smell completely. He prided himself upon having a tough stomach that didn't need much to satisfy him, but even he was able to appreciate the fine culinary effort put into the meal.

"Miso is alright with you, I hope?"

Jax nodded. Although it was far from standard eating fare when he dined with the company, he had the pleasure to enjoy the mixture of soybeans, barley, and rice a few times when he and Karzak had a few days off and some spare coin to spend. While most of the mercenaries had spent their leisure time and resources gambling or frequenting the brothels, the two friends had much lower-key tastes, preferring the sanctuary of small noodle houses which could be found in nearly any Ionian town. If not for the scabbards they wore at the belts around their waists, one would never have guessed the pair to be men who killed for a living.

Draping an old rag over Jax's legs, Irelia carefully the bowls with the miso soup and gingerly set one into his lap. "Zelos had some important business to attend to at the Placidium, so he's going to be away until tomorrow morning," she explained. "Eating a meal without the entire family feels wrong, but you're not going to get any better on an empty stomach." She brought up a chair beside the bed and sat next to him, cradling her own bowl in her lap.

He nodded again, not in a very talkative mood after his long bout of contemplation. Something about her story didn't sit right with him, however. "Your brother left you alone overnight?'

"I'm more than capable of taking care of myself," she asserted, and Jax could tell by the way she straightened up in her seat that she was doing her best to look as grown-up as possible. For a girl as youthful as she was, Irelia definitely showed a maturity perhaps double her age, if the conversation she had with him earlier was any indication. Jax thought he was not much older than her, but in his eyes she was still a child, and from her point of view this scenario looked very dangerous.

"I know what you're thinking," she went on. "You're a big scary mercenary and I'm just a little weakling, so what's my brother doing leaving me alone with you for a night? What you didn't know is that Zelos and I were taught the way of the blade by our father, and I can wield a sword well enough to stab you in the gut if you make any funny movement out of that bed, not to mention the fact that you're still crippled."

Her mood had changed, Jax mused. He wasn't sure if she was beginning to act more comfortable around him, or if it was the captivating aroma of the soup which she had brought in, but Irelia was actually beginning to act like the teenage girl she was supposed to be. Jax tried to throw away the thought in his mind. He shouldn't be able to put a label on this girl - she was too mysterious for that. What does she want from me?

"You haven't touched your soup," Irelia said pointedly. "Don't tell me you're not hungry, you must be completely starving."

"I'm not at all comfortable eating or drinking anything before my host does the same," Jax offered.

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you worried that I poisoned it or something?" To prove her sincerity, she scooped up a generous portion of miso and swallowed it, waiting a few seconds to prove that there was nothing faulty with the broth.

"That wasn't it," Jax said absently. "It's not a matter of whether it's safe for me to eat or not. It's out of respect."

The smug expression had slipped off Irelia's face quite quickly, wide open eyes and pursed lips replacing it. "I'm really starting to question your story of being a mercenary now. You would have fit in much better with the samurai of Ryudou Temple better."

"I swear on my lack of honor that I am a completely selfish and dishonest man," Jax promised her.

Her laugh threatened to make him smile - it was that infectious. "Now I don't know whether to trust that I shouldn't trust you, or not trust that you're distrustful, or, or… I can't even tell now! You're making this so difficult."

The soup had a unique taste to it, Jax thought as the warm liquid seeped down his throat. It may have been a different variety of spices, or just the unparalleled feel of a truly home-cooked meal, but he felt content enough to not warrant responding to Irelia's little monologue.

"You know what, I'll just pin you down for a good guy and leave it at that right now," she finally decided.

"Oh rea-"

"Hush! I'm not letting you change my mind! I'll do that about five times before the end of this night," Irelia interrupted him. Over the course of the past hour or so she had really become a different person. Jax wondered which side of her was the real deal, and then contemplated on whether he'd stick around long enough to figure out.

"About this vengeance you want," Irelia changed the topic suddenly, her tone becoming much more serious again. "Who is this supposed to be going towards?"

Jax debated long and hard about what kind of answer to give to her. Sure, she wasn't directly involved in the immediate future plans he had in mind and was for all intensive purposes a bystander, but he wasn't about to rattle off all the steps he was planning to carry out to her. "The bandits and the mercenary company are equally at fault here," he decided on an ambiguous answer.

"You'd turn against the men who you worked with?" Irelia asked incredulously.

"The whole institution and the creed it wants to live by is corrupt," Jax informed her. "It puts shame on the meaning of the word 'power' and turned the concept of true strength into a laughingstock." Ironically, the one thing Captain Wargyen got right was his ability to control the sensation of battle, to actually restrain the blood rush of fighting an opponent and be able to test your ability against a person without the constant fear of your mortality hanging in the balance like a pendulum over your own body.

Irelia wanted him to expand more, to open up his thoughts to her, but the only words he uttered during the remainder of the meal were requests for more soup.

* * *

Under normal circumstances she never took much stock of dreams. There were several mystics who wandered about Ionia, each voicing a different claim that they could interpret dreams and use them to foretell the future, ranging from small events like the weather in the next coming days to the foundation of a new love to the large-scale ominous predictions of war on the horizon. The first time she had come across one of the fanatical spiritualists, her father had told her to walk by without so much as turning her head at them, and not listen to a word of what they were blabbering.

Irelia couldn't deny that this dream had a lot more vivid imagery than the usual phantasmal images which usually passed through her subconscious. A castle in the sky, a man carrying what looked to be a giant walking stick standing atop a mountain of bodies, a quartet of floating blades. What could they all mean? Trying to convince herself that the imagery was insignificant, and failing horribly at it, she forced herself to sit up in her bed and stretch her limbs, yawning loudly.

Upon reaching the door to her room, she realized that Jax had indeed not attempted to tamper with her while she slept, as the metal can which she had situated atop her doorsill in such a manner that it would fall to the floor with a loud klang if the door moved from the outside had not moved during the night. A mercenary who kept to his word was indeed a strange sight these days. She scratched the thought from her head. Jax was by no means a mercenary, at least not anymore. Vagabond would be a better word choice.

Entering the kitchen which also doubled as the main room of the small house, Irelia noticed that her brother had not yet returned from his trip. Seeing that she would have to prepare breakfast for only two until further notice, she began to make her way to the storage room at the far side of the house to get the bag of rice. As she considered the possibilities of what combinations of vegetables she could include in the dish, she walked past the open door of the guest room which served as Jax's temporary bedroom, and quickly doubled back on her steps.

If the door was open, it would only have meant one thing. Irelia hurriedly peered into the room, and her eyes confirmed her fear.

Jax had left.

* * *

 **A/N:** boy I hope you weren't hoping for some more Irelia/Jax interaction cause now as soon as they got together they're separated again! don't worry, they'll find a way to run into each other next chapter. It is the whole point of the story.

I'm not sure if Irelia's mood changed too drastically between chapters but it didn't seem out of character, although that influence is probably from Trinity. Apart from that and the very questionable Fate/stay night reference, this segment is fairly run-of-the-mill. Also, dreams. It's so easy to drop symbolism in one chapter and then make a bunch of things happen in future chapters that vaguely relate to the images in dreams and go "HA, I did foreshadowing!" I don't like using dream imagery but in this case I think it'll actually be useful.


	5. Enervate

The air always seemed to slow the closer one got to the Giant's Hill, forcing out a shiver from her like it always did. Irelia hated making the walk to the top.

Zelos had entrusted her with delivering a new bow to the warden at its apex, watching the world go by in his solitary vigil, however, and she would not let him down. The hickory weapon shuffled in the long wooden case as she carried it in her arms, taking her first steps toward the summit. The climb didn't faze her, perhaps only a twenty or thirty minute journey, and heights didn't scare her. She loved seeing the world from higher ground, from the top of the bell tower in their little village, from vantage points where the eagles and the falcons could see everything down to the smallest squirrel running amidst the grass in the fields.

What did frighten her were the voices.

They didn't call to her every time she went up the hill, and neither her brother nor any of the townsfolk claimed to hear anything when they made trips, but she knew they hid there, in every alcove and behind every rocky outcropping, calling her name and whispering some other words, too faint to hear or too intelligible to make out, but a haunting presence all the same. She might've expected it, given the history of the Giant's Hill. Legend had said that after the Warring Kingdoms had ceased their unrest, after they swapped their swords for plowshares, a mighty warlord had made the seat of his state on the Giant's Hill. Back then it was a majestic mountain, much larger in size and harboring a pristine lake at its apex, high enough that no fallen leaves could ever taint its surface. He had called up Li Shui the Water Dancer to his castle, asking the swordsmaster to share with him the secrets of the liquid, how he had manipulated the liquid to block the blows of three opposing swords when they had pinned his back against the wall.

The water dancer led him to the lake, fearlessly setting his foot atop the surface and walking along the water. Li Shui turned to the warlord, inviting him to stroll along the lake with him. If you are a warrior with a true heart and pure intentions, he said, then you need not fear falling under. The warlord accepted his challenge, eager to prove his strength, and tested his weight against the water. To his surprise, it held, and he found himself walking atop the lake. Eager to continue flexing his power, he sought in his mind to marshal his forces immediately and cross the great Lake Kabeana to take out the warlords on the other side with a surprise attack. The waters immediately sensed his impure motives, and in a flash the warlord found himself sinking below the surface, the calm lake suddenly transforming into a violent whirlpool, the torrential flurry pulling him under as the Water Dancer looked on in disdain. The lake could read the aspirations written on the hearts of those who walked by it, and the wicked it would drag to the bottom of its depths, where they continue to wander in their aquatic prison, calling out to those who ascended the mountain and looking for release.

And even though the Ionians valued their tradition, no one took the stories into account very seriously nowadays. Irelia had heard that a single man stood watch at the top of Giant's Hill, a tradition which dated back hundreds of years, guarding some nameless secret. No one knew what sort of object the men kept caged up there, and rumors ranged from scrolls of dark magic to cursed swords, made to rip the flesh out of both those it cut through and those who wielded them. Still others believed the single stone slab at the top of the hill housed a demon, imprisoned in ethereal chains cast upon it by a mage dating back to the Age of Heroes. Irelia cast out all the suspicions from her head. For a people so immersed in the mythology of the land, the way some of the elders talked made it difficult to distinguish fact from fiction.

Her musing had occupied her during the ascent, and she sighed in relief as she caught sight of the red roof of the temple coming into view above the last rise. Long Ionic columns stood in front of her, white marble which rose up to an entablature upon which lay several artistic friezes depicting scenes of nature, primordial beings, and valiant heroes. Atop the roof she could spy a small stone box, the watchtower added into the building in more recent times to help watch for intruders. She hadn't heard anything but the wind blowing at her back during her walk up, grateful that the voices did not come to plague here this time. Still, Irelia didn't want to linger on the hill any longer than she needed to, so she resolved to bring the weapon to the warden and head back home immediately.

She found the inner court empty, her footsteps echoing throughout the room, and had no better luck as she approached the inner sanctum. A wooden ladder stood up against the western wall, leading up to a hole in the ceiling where Irelia presumed lead to the watchtower. Tying the container for the bow to her side by wrapping a sash around her waist, she placed a foot on the rung and began to climb, the ladder slightly creaking under her weight. The ascent took her a couple of minutes, and when she pulled herself through the hole in the ceiling and into the watchtower room, she found herself quite high up.

The mid-afternoon clouds marred the beauty of the view, but Irelia could still see for miles in every direction. To the south, west, and east lay the Crownthorn Forest, named for the gnarled trees whose branches curled into circular shapes resembling crowns, but to the north lay Lake Anjin, the largest freshwater body in all of Ionia, a blue expanse which tinged orange with the reflection of the sun on its waters. And beyond that, she could see the the peaks of the Lhotsar Mountains in the distance, the snow still adorning the tops with white frost.

The solitary man sitting in the watchtower had already turned around at the sound of her entrance, probably already having screened her through when she came into his sight on her way up. "Am I to assume you are the messenger of the package intended for me?" His brown eyes and gruff voice gave off a much rougher impression than she had expected, considering his medium-length blond hair and fair skin.

Irelia nodded, untying the sash from around her waist and handing the wooden case to him. The warden pushed open the lock on the container and drew out the bow, admiring the curvature of the weapon and carefully examining the tautness of the string which spanned its length. "This shall serve its purpose," he said, as if deeming it worthy for his hands to operate it. His eyes swept back to her, a move so sudden that she took a step back instinctively. "They trusted a girl as young as you with so delicate a mission."

"I'm going in place for my brother, sir," Irelia offered, deciding formalities would help more than hurt. "Some other obligations called Zelos away, so he left the task to me."

The vigilant spheres showed recognition. "Zelos? I seem to recall Master Lito having a son with that name. Then you must be his daughter."

She nodded. "My name is Irelia."

"My condolences go out to you and your brother," the man apologized for a matter which he had no involvement with, but Irelia accepted his concern all the same. "I had the pleasure to meet your father a few times when he came to the Placidium. His bladework was remarkable." He cleared his throat. "I take it your brother has not told you who I am. You may call me Varus, the guardian of the Pit of Pallas, but you already know that."

The name of the object which he guarded sent a shiver down her spine, and although Irelia liked Varus well enough, she still wanted to take her leave of the place. She began to think of some excuse that she could bring up without sounding rude when Varus suddenly grabbed her arm, his eyes furtively scanning the horizon and his ears straining to catch a sound which he alone seemed to have heard.

"We have guests. A group of mountain bandits fancy this temple open to their ransacking," he announced, grabbing the quiver of arrows lying in the corner, slinging the newly acquired bow over his shoulder, and making his way down the ladder. "I suggest you stay close to me. It cannot be allowed to escape."

Wondering what Varus meant by 'it,' she followed him out of the watchtower and back into the main temple complex, uneasily trailing a safe distance away. She regretted not bringing a sword, even the wooden training one which she used every day to spar with Zelos because he didn't want to burden her with the weight of a real sword in her hands just yet. "You're too young," he had said, but in a life-or-death crisis like this, live steel wouldn't discriminate with age. Varus seemed to sense the same dilemma, looking around the temple for any sort of portable object she could use as a substitution. "I don't suppose you are familiar with bows, are you?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No matter. I will not let them pass," he swore, but the bandits had already made their way through the entrance hall. She counted six, all armed with steel axes, calmly making their way into the inner room where Varus and Irelia stood. The archer walked up to the narrow doorway, defiantly blocking the passageway with his tall frame, and notched an arrow to the bowstring. "Leave this place," he commanded.

The six men shared a few glances amongst each other, a few chuckling at Varus' threat. At the very first step they tried to take forward, he loosed the arrow, whizzing through the air with unmatched speed and injecting itself into a shoulder of one of the bandits in front. He crumpled to the ground, clutching the wound in agony, and his five remaining compatriots decided they had no time for patience and charged straight at the archer.

One of the men bringing up the rear took a blow in the back of the head and fell face first to the ground, confusing both the bandits and Irelia. While the men, their number now reduced to four, looked around in confusion, Irelia saw the stranger duck behind one of the bronze statues, backing away from the bandits after their surprise attack. Varus took advantage of their temporary disarray to let loose another arrow, nicking the cheek of one of the bandits' faces but not causing any significant injury besides the flow of blood spurting from his face. He ignored the bleeding, charging forth at Varus with renewed fury with another of his brethren at his side for backup. Finding himself outnumbered, Varus had to back out into the sanctum proper while Irelia wondered where the last two had gone. The sounds of steel striking another metal with a metallic clang filling the air answered her question, and the stranger who had come to their aid a few moments before had lead his two pursuers around the statue and behind a couple of the temple pillars before barreling through the passageway into the inner sanctum and coming up from behind the two bandits closing in on Varus. One swing of the greatsword which he carried in his hands cut down the one in the back, who fell to the floor with a grunt and tried to roll away before a second cut, this one aimed at the neck, put an end to his struggling for certain.

Irelia had a chance to see the face of the new arrival more closely while Varus concentrated on putting an arrow through his assailant's neck, finding his mark this time with the help of the stranger locking him in place by tackling his legs and throwing him to the ground. The archer's shot might have went awry and hit the other man with the slightest of aiming errors, but Varus did not flinch from the shot he faced, threading the needle with the quiet certainty of a veteran. When the man had died, she found her voice again. "Jax?"

"You know this man?" Varus questioned. He had his bow raised towards the mercenary, as if regarding him as another threat, but fortunately there was no arrow in the slot.

"We've met a couple of times," Jax said, turning around to see the the last two bandits wander in, surprised to see the corpses of their comrades strewn across the temple floor.

"The defense of this temple does not concern you, mercenary," Varus hissed as he rummaged in the quiver for another arrow. "Only one warden is assigned to guarding the pit."

"Are you really going to argue with a man who just saved our lives?" Irelia never thought a man could act so stubborn.

"He did not save me from them. He merely shortened the process." The archer let the arrow fly, and despite their stiff introduction, Jax came at the last two from the side, making sure he attacked at an angle which would place him out of the way of Varus' shots. The greatsword did not bring as much strength as their battleaxes, but the mercenary's skill proved more than sufficient as he disarmed the two marauders with the help of Varus' arrows piercing into their skin. Without their weapons, they resorted to throwing themselves at the smaller man, but his agility allowed him to dodge their clumsy charges and after a few more sidesteps and a few swift strikes, the edge of the sword hastening to bring them their fate like lambs to the slaughter. Jax stood above their bodies, his brow mopped with sweat and his chest undulating as he panted from the physical exertion.

Varus was not impressed. "If you have no business here, you should leave." Irelia wanted to say something, put in a word about how rude he was acting, but Jax hadn't come there to make friends, either. "Then I won't offer to help you clean up this mess, warden." He started to walk off, and Irelia wanted to follow him, to ask him where he had been all this time, but her legs rooted themselves to the floor.

"You should be off as well," the archer told her in a gentler tone. "It is getting dark and the wicked love to count their sins under the cover of night." He began systematically searching the bodies for any other weapons on their persons, pocketing the small knives he found.

"Uh… right." In the faint light which shone through the temple's pillars, Varus looked more like a fallen angel than an esteemed guardian, and his appearance frightened her. She briskly walked out of the inner sanctum, catching up to the cloaked figure heading down the Giant's Hill.

"Why did you leave?" He knew she did not refer to a few minutes ago.

"I couldn't accomplish my goals in your care. I had an obligation to fulfill," Jax replied as he slowed down, his feet crunching the pebbles underfoot on the rocky path.

"Your vengeance?" Irelia asked, walking astride him. "Is that why you followed the bandits here to the temple?"

"I could've taken their lives at any location in Ionia. I came to the temple because of the voices."

She gasped. So she hadn't been hearing things the entire time, and others could hear the whispers which floated in the air on the hill. "You can hear them, too?"

"I wanted to know what was up there, to figure out what was drawing me to the peak," Jax answered. "Varus there told me everything I needed to know."

"Him?" Irelia hadn't heard much from the archer, especially not anything concerning the voices. "You two didn't talk much."

"It's the voice of temptation itself. There's only one person watching over whatever's locked up in there." He drew his cloak tighter around him, pulling his hood down as well to shield his face from the cold. "I'm surprised they've held out for as long as they have been. Eventually, one of the wardens is going to crack."

Irelia could hear, even feel, the little persistent sensation coming back to annoy her. And though the wind picked up at her back, she knew it wasn't it.

 _Now?_ they asked.

* * *

 **A/N:** This story deserves more of my attention. When you can get by with shorter length chapters, you can have more intriguing experiences like this. I hope the exchange between Varus and Jax wasn't too blunt, because the Arrow of Retribution was never really a friendly guy and neither was Jax back in the day. Then you have young Irelia wandering around thinking 'what does this all mean?' Also spooky Pallas is spooky.

My next work is going to be something completely new. I'm actually really excited about starting the project and I'm determined on making that the next full-length story, in a similar vein with Trinity. No it's not a sequel, I need to rest my head from all the Jax/Irelia writing I've been doing, but you guys can get this much for now.


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